


Habits

by TurnaboutWriter



Series: In the Age of Innocence: The Nonary Games [2]
Category: 999: Nine Hours Nine Persons Nine Doors - Fandom, Zero Escape (Video Games), Zero Escape: Virtue's Last Reward - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Post-999, Sudoku, morphogenetic field things, pre-999, slight vlr spoiler in here too though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 06:08:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7789633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TurnaboutWriter/pseuds/TurnaboutWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He fails to understand his sister's compulsive need to solve Sudoku puzzles. She calls it a habit, but he knows that with her, there's more to what meets the eye. Spoilers for both 999 and VLR.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Habits

**Author's Note:**

> This is Unbeta'ed - so, I apologize in advance for any errors!
> 
> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. This story is copyright © 2016 Turnabout Writer. All rights reserved.

–– **2023 ––**

"Why are you always trying to fucking solve those damn Sudoku puzzles?"

 **[Akane Kurashiki]** looks up from the newspaper page and frowns. "Language," she chastises, leaning back in her seat and twirling the pen – because pencils are for the cowards who erase their mistakes – in her hand.

"Hmph. And I thought I was the older sibling." **[Aoi]** scoffs mockingly, but is only met with the fleeting sound of pen scratching paper. "Well?" A sound of a foot tapping reverberates along the hardwood flooring. He crosses his arms as he sinks down into the couch of their parent's home. "I'm waiting for your reply."

"Aoi," his sister sighs, and gives him a reassuring smile. "Please, don't worry about me. Sudoku is just a bad habit I can't rid myself of."

Aoi can see right through her lie. _Bad habit, my ass_.

She calls it a habit, but he knows that with Akane, there's more to what meets the eye.

He wants to be a smart-ass and tell her that playing Sudoku every day doesn't become a habit – in this case, a bad addiction of sort – but becomes **[routine]**.

And her routine of playing it is not identical to an old man sitting on his couch every morning with the newspaper, reading all of the articles with his reading glasses on, and then at the end, grabbing a pencil to solve the puzzle.

No, that's not how she plays it at all.

She takes the page with the puzzle out of the newspaper and splays it across their mother's writing desk.

And, because she is Akane, there has to be a plain, single page ripped from her one of her old notebooks from her school to her right; she needs scrap paper to outline possible number selections, but does not wish to waste paper.

As he watches her, hunched over the desk and brows furrow in concentration, muttering and counting off numbers to herself, he wonders silently if maybe this is her way of **[transmitting information]** to  _that boy_.

He sighs at that idea, because of the other memories and thoughts it brings to mind, especially regarding Akane.

She's only 17 years old, but he can see in her eyes, in her face, in her damn _personality_ , that she is so jaded for her age. She should be enjoying her youth, hanging out with her friends, and – as it pains Aoi, as her older brother, to think of it – go out with stupid boys. But she's so caught up in saving herself, so that in the future, she can save the world, which is why she has only built up walls around her. Her life revolves around the **[Nonary Game]** , in which she forces herself to don the cold, unfeeling mask of **[Zero]** – literally and metaphorically. And though she might have that mask of coldness, Aoi knows that behind that calculating and cunning persona lays a sweet, caring, but broken girl who longs to simply run away – perhaps with that boy – without a care for the world's future.

–– **2027 ––**

"Aoi." She shakes her head. " _Santa_ ," she corrects herself, a few years later, as she stands in the **[incinerator]**. It's so painfully familiar, even though it's not the same incinerator from the ship. How is Akane able to hold herself up so well?

Aoi, or **[Santa]** , as Akane – **[June]** – has taken to call him, with only days near the next Nonary Game, whips his head, surprised to have even heard her speak; she has not uttered a word since they entered **[Building Q]**. "Yeah?"

She takes long strides towards the center circle, and crouches down, placing her hand on one of the panels. The metal is cool and smooth beneath her palm.

"There should be a switch here somewhere to have this open up and have a computer rise. We need to look around and find it." Her eyelids slowly lower, as if in a trance, and whips her head to the center door with a small window. Her eyes fly open and her finger immediately points to that window. "There! Behind that door!" That was where **[Gentarou Hongou]** had been, face pressed eagerly against the glass, watching little Akane struggle and cry, on the **[Gigantic]**.

She runs towards the door, which lifts up automatically – a fact that Aoi stores in the back of his head, so he can remember to tweak with that function when the time comes – and shuts automatically.

Aoi fleetingly rises on the tip of his toes to try to see what his sister is up to, but to no avail. A few seconds pass by before the center circle opens to have a strange, old computer system rise from the ground. A strange pull causes him to walk towards the computer with wide strides, and stop only a few feet before it. He stares at it intently for what seems the longest time, that he doesn't hear Akane return to the incinerator and walk up to stand by his side, until she places one hand on his shoulder, startling him.

Her lips twitch amusingly. "Did I scare you?" she taunts playfully, but there's a slight quiver to her voice, in her words. It is silent for a few moments before her hand stretches towards the keyboard, only to quickly retract it when she realizes it is trembling. She turns to stare at her brother with pleading eyes. "Aoi." She swallows thickly. "Can you turn it on, please?"

Aoi looks back at his sister with soft eyes, catching her trembling fingers with his still ones with one hand, and presses the ON button with his other hand.

When he sees a flash of light from his peripheral vision, he breaks his gaze toward Akane, only to see the Sudoku puzzle light the screen. Aoi's eyes widen and snap back towards Akane's, whose own are filled with guilt and silent apologies.

He purses his lips, and crosses his arms. "Well, fuck."

.

"Akan – er, June?" He asks a few minutes later. He swallows thickly, palms sweaty – which he can't tell if is from the hot Nevada sun, or from being nervous. Aoi hates how hot it is here. "A-Are you positive that the boy will be able to take the right path?"

"I have seen the different ways it will end," she murmurs. "I've seen Hongou killing us. We need to be wary of him, and keep a watchful eye over Clover – grief due to her brother's "death" and suspicion will wreck her and kill us all." Her eyes are glazed over, as if she is currently envisioning the future like an oracle of sort. "And, Aoi . . . I trust Jumpy with my life. He will save me – he _has_ saved me. After all, I'm alive, aren't I?" She smiles wryly and maybe a little shyly, a hint of the glimmer that he recognizes from the old Akane shining in her eyes.

Her face is delicately blushed, as if it can fade away in a second, but it still warms Aoi's heart. He misses the old Akane, and prays to whatever being is up there to bring her back to him.

 _Please, save my sister,_ **[Junpei]** _. . ._

–– **2019 ––**

He stares at the page, rapt by some aspect of it that he cannot put his finger on. It's slightly irritating, since a word to describe this feeling is on the tip of his tongue, but he can't seem to catch it.

He was lying on his back on his bed, when it first happened. The magazine on his bedside table caught his eye. His mother would always read magazines and leave him the crosswords and word searches to try if there were any. Mysteriously drawn at the idea of solving a puzzle, he grabbed it, opening it to a random page, to see an unsolved **[Sudoku]** puzzle printed upside-down.

 _Oh, wait! I opened the magazine upside-down,_ part of his mind screams, though the other part ignores it, simply too focused on inspecting the grid, some parts filled with numbers, and others empty.

There's _something_ in his mind that screams at him to play, that draws him towards it. On their own accord, his fingers begin to reach for a pencil, so he can attempt to solve this puzzle –

" _Pencils are for the cowards who_ **[erase their mistakes]**."

Junpei's fingers still mid-air for a moment, at the strange invasive thought in his mind – did that thought produce from his own mind? Did he hear that from somewhere? The thought didn't sound like him own voice . . .

He shakes off the nagging fear stirring in the pit of his stomach and stretches his hand towards a pen instead.

With a newfound determination, he **[rotates the puzzle 180 degrees]** , effectively correcting the position of the magazine to be right side up. He crawls down from his bed, and moves to sit at the desk his father bought him last month. He turns on his desk light and, with almost robotic movements, grabs a piece of scrap paper from a pile that his mother keeps for him on the corner of his desk. He is hunched over in his seat when he begins to examine the puzzle.

_Let's see here . . . We've got numbers all over this grid. Now, if I'm looking at this right . . . I'm going to need to fill in all the empty squares with other numbers from 1 to 9. But I can't use the same 2 numbers in any horizontal or vertical row. The same has to go for the 3 by 3 square with the thick lines around them. That means I need to put different numbers in the horizontal and vertical rows, as well as the 3 by 3 spaces. I think that's the rule here._

As he plays, Junpei twirls his pen in a motion both familiar and unfamiliar to him.

–– **2028 ––**

Akane and her brother have been on the run.

And they always will be, now that the **[Second Nonary Game]** has finished. They knew this was bound to happen. Though Gentarou Hongou had been the one to kill, she and Aoi were directly responsible for the kidnapping of seven individuals, faking her own death, and, most importantly, feeding bombs to two individuals to have them intentionally detonated in their stomachs and kill them. She knew that the other participants of the Second Nonary Game would not rat her and Aoi out to the police, and that the likelihood of the police believing Hongou's words – especially with **[Seven]** there to stomp down his testimony – was slim to none, but they couldn't afford to take any risk . . . .

And now, she sits at a desk of crappy room, reeking of cigarettes, marijuana, and sex, in a cheap motel. Though Aoi has lots of money left over from their investment ventures with Cradle Pharmaceutical, enough for both a lavish, luxurious living, and to spend for the next Nonary Game, Akane refuses to squander the money.

As she inhales the stinging smell of carcinogens from previous smoking occupants of the room, she subconsciously chews on the end of her pen, a bad **[habit]** she cannot rid herself of, just like this wretched puzzle. When she realizes what she is doing, she stops immediately. She opens the drawer above her lap to retrieve a new, unbitten pen, mentally scolding herself. After throwing the gnawed pen into the drawer, which she then pushes in, she brings back her focus and attention to the grid.

_1, 2, 3, 4, need 5, 6 . . . there's 7 and 8, but no 9._

Akane hates the feeling of being helpless.

She'll be forever indebt to Jumpy for solving that horrid excuse of a brainteaser.

_There's a 5 and 9 here._

_This grid has 1-8 but needs a 9._

_9_ , she writes in her mechanic handwriting.

She pens the last number needed to finish the Sudoku puzzle. She repeats the number once more in her head, her mental tone bitter. The number branded into her restless mind for the past 9 years, and that she forced to be branded onto Jumpy not even a full three months ago.

 **[5]**.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!


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